Out Like a Flame
by Purplehood
Summary: They weren't coming, but he didn't care anymore. They were gone, probably dead. And it was all his fault. Darkness pulsed around him, pulling him down, further, faster. He was stuck there, staring as the voice hissed out a strange sort of laughter around the room, echoing back into his ears, throbbing, twisting, ripping through his head. And he couldn't wake up.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This was going to be a one shot, but I got a little carried away with my thoughts... so now it's a short story.**

 **This is a "sorta" AU, taking place loosely sometime around "Greening the Cube" and "Eye of the Storm" and... well, things go wrong.**

 **Shout out to my friends Meritt and Rookblonkorules! They've encouraged me so much and have really helped me out with this. Thanks, guys!**

 **I don't own Voltron Legendary Defender or any of the characters appearing in this chapter.**

 **...**

 _One... Two... Three..._

His mind was wavering as he tried to keep awake; he could feel it, drifting just over the edge of exhaustion.

Sleep seemed to just hover above him, weighing down on him, ready to let him fade away… All he had to do was let himself slip.

But he couldn't, he reminded himself. He couldn't give up yet; not when there was still hope of getting through this.

His eyelids stubbornly retained their strength, hanging over the narrow slits of his eyes as he stared up at the dreary grey that made up the sky, its dark cloud formations swirling in its vastness.

His left hand laid by his side, palm down, index finger tapping against the dark ground repetitively. _Four... Five…Six..._ It wasn't helping to ease the pain. He wasn't even sure why exactly he was counting. Perhaps to take his mind off his injuries, or simply to pass the time. Or both. It didn't matter as long as it was keeping him awake; it was good to have something to focus on in his state.

.. _Seven… Eight… Nine..._

Keith cast a pained glance down to his side, where the remains of _something_ protruded from the armor, some sort of shrapnel poking out of his skin. He couldn't recall how or when that had happened.

Pain radiated through the mid part of his body, and Keith instantly stopped tapping, instead slowly reaching up to cup his hands around the wound and grimacing.

 _Stupid alien creeps._

It had been at least an hour since the crash. Maybe more. The cloud cover made it difficult to determine where the sun was, giving the planet he had landed on an almost timeless feel to it, a limbo of mist and dark soil.

One thing was for sure though; he'd been there too long. And the sluggish state of his mind couldn't mean anything good, never mind his busted side.

He probably had a concussion; that would explain the weariness and the headache.

The Galra would be there soon, and he was alone and vulnerable. If there was ever a perfect time to strike, this was it.

Keith mustered up the willpower to hiss into the air, frustrated with himself and the failures that summed up the day's events.

The Galra had found them, again. The teludav was damaged. And he had been an idiot trying to play "hero" with a stunt that could have cost them all their lives… if it hadn't already.

He wasn't even sure if everyone made it out okay.

The wormhole never did open. At least, he never saw it open.

Everything had happened too quick.

He stopped himself there and slumped further back against the rock formation he had managed to prop himself up against, a swarm of new thoughts overtaking his mind.

Keith squeezed his eyes closed, his lips curling into a sneer.

Perhaps if he had been better prepared, it wouldn't have happened like this.

He forced his thoughts aside and looked himself over the best he could.

Most of the armor on his left leg was shattered if not missing entirely. The rest of his uniform was hardly better, being beaten, battered, and dirty from trudging around in the blackish dirt of whatever this planet was.

His helmet was intact, for the most part.

But the visor was cracked, and the jagged edge of the Altean glass told him that there was at least half missing. The comm link was broken too, meaning he couldn't contact his team to see if they were okay and safe, and he couldn't call for help or to apologize or to explain.

They probably had no idea where he was, assuming they were still alive. And if they were, maybe they needed help. Help he wasn't there to give because… _he_ didn't know where _they_ were, either.

Where were they?

The question almost hurt as it pulsed through his brain.

 _Where are they? Where are they? Where are they?_

The words echoed through his tired mind, refreshing the feel of his blindingly evident lack of knowledge.

He didn't know where they were or if they were alive and safe, and... it _hurt._

It was almost funny in a horrible heart-twisting way.

He, Keith Kogane, the lone-wolf, living-out-in-the-middle-of-nowhere drop-out was worried over a group of people that was probably the closest thing he was ever going to get to the concept of "family."

A second chance that he might have lost already.

It was enough to make him want to growl in frustration, maybe even scream, if he had the strength and energy.

But he never got the chance.

Keith withered over his lap as the pain in his torso suddenly spiked throughout his body.

He wrapped his fingers tighter around the shard of _metal?_ _rock?_ in his side, itching to yank _whatever_ it was free as he launched into a coughing fit, keenly aware of the strange taste and gurgly sensation hacking its way forward from the back of his throat. Blood, maybe? The landing must have been hard, much too hard.

It was only a minute before the retching subsided, but to Keith, it was an eternity.

He slowly sank backwards, gasping for much needed air, feeling even more drained and exhausted than before, sides burning.

Hopefully the rest of the team weren't in a situation like this. Hopefully they were safe.

They _had_ to be. They were Paladins of Voltron after all, right?

They couldn't have gone out… like this. Shiro would have found a way to escape.

Keith let out a sigh as his fingers traced along the tear in his undersuit, right above his belt of his paladin armor.

The skin around the object was inflamed and slick with blood underneath, but he resisted the urge to rub at it. That wouldn't help, even if the shard wasn't that deep and in all probability he could stop the bleeding.

He just couldn't risk it now.

A damp breeze swelled in the misty air before it brushed against his body, causing him to shiver and bringing his attention to a very important issue.

The air of the planet was breathable, but that didn't help the fact that it was cold.

Very cold, and getting colder.

His position was probably offering the least amount of shelter against the wind. He could only hope it wouldn't snow-if snow was a thing on this planet. He didn't think he could handle any weird alien weather.

But Shiro and the others were going to be there soon, long before the snow or whatever the planet was going to throw at him. They were okay and they were coming… _yes, they_ had escaped.

They _had_ to have escaped. He had to keep up that hope.

 _But where are they?_

Keith felt something between a hiss and a growl press against the back of his throat.

Curse his mind.

Tilting his head back, he looked up into the planet's atmosphere as faint droplets of precipitation collected on his cheeks. His eyes fixed into a daze on the black cliffs and ridges that seem to span the landscape, blurring into the distance as a fresh blanket of fog slowly descended.

Keith dropped his left hand to the ground, idly fingering a darkish pebble near enough for him to grasp.

Everything seemed to be black on this planet- from the ground to the mountainous formations on the horizon.

Dark.

Cold.

Lonely.

If he hadn't been in pain, Keith would have jumped when the distant sounds of a ship's engines suddenly reverberated throughout his valley-like surroundings. The clear, smooth humming betrayed the origin.

 _Galra_.

So they had found him.

Keith sneered in disgust before rolling his head to the side to view the plane of land stretched out before him. Non-functional fighters already littered the terrain in a grotesque garden of twisted metal, smoke still billowing from their husks and mixing in with the remains of the battle not long ago.

The sight brought a determined frown to his face and a warm feeling within his chest as Keith reached to summon the bayard still loosely connected to his side.

He wouldn't go down without a fight.

He might have been bruised, battered, and tired as hell, but if he had any spirit left in him, they weren't going to have an easy time taking him.

Keith couldn't see the ship from his position, but he could still hear it somewhere off to his right. His gaze slowly drifted past the debris field in that direction, if only to keep a vague sense of security by knowing where the fighter was going.

He stopped short as his eye caught sight of the form on his right.

His heart skipped a beat.

The Red Lion was slumped on her side yards away from him, half buried under the pile of dark earth and volcanic rock she had dug into during their crash.

If she wasn't damaged badly enough during the battle, reentry and the hard surface of the planet had definitely tipped her over the edge.

Keith almost jolted in panic at the sudden realization. He couldn't feel her presence in his mind anymore, even though she was practically right next to him.

Their bond…

It felt nonexistent.

Like someone had just turned off a light... without him noticing.

A knot built up in his throat as his eyes frantically darted across her damaged frame, taking in every scrape and dent… every mistake he had made while piloting her, before finally coming to rest on her darkened eyes. Mirrors reflecting back on a world that suddenly felt even more like a graveyard to him.

Cold, dark, and empty.

 _Lifeless_.

The barren landscape of a forgotten planet.

All the energy and determination from before seemed to drain from his mind in one fell swoop, replaced by a nagging throb at the prospect of forgetting Red as easily as he had.

How could he have forgotten her? His own Lion!

"I'm sorry, Red," he managed to groan out, resting his head back against the rock formation. It was the first time he had spoken in a while, and he wanted to say more, beg her to come back and wake up, but his voice was hoarse, _weak_ from coughing and retching because he had screwed up bad this time.

Keith closed his mouth, his teeth grinding together as he tried desperately to reach out to her with his mind.

 _I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry._

 _Please come back._

He was sorry he dragged her into this mess.

Sorry he disobeyed Shiro. Sorry he couldn't hold the Galra off for them to escape. Sorry he hadn't moved in time to avoid that hit. Sorry he wasn't strong enough. Sorry he didn't think this through.

 _Damn_ , he hated himself.

Even if Allura _had_ managed to create a wormhole, what were they going to do without the Red Lion?

Zarkon might not be able to track them anymore, if his suspicions were correct. But no Red Lion meant no Voltron. And no Voltron meant their chances of bringing the Galra empire down were lowered drastically _._

Keith loosened his grip and let the bayard slip from his palm as he quit probing the hole in his mind where a mental roar or purr used to nudge.

She was gone.

He felt sick.

He had _really_ messed up this time, despite whatever Red would have said.

She would have roared at him, told him he was wrong, sent him feelings of encouragement, contentment, confidence. He was her paladin, and she would stand by him in choosing to protect the team… because that was what he was trying to do, right?

Protect the team? Self-sacrifice for the good of all?

He didn't even know anymore.

He hadn't told anyone about all those dreams with the Galra.

He hadn't shown anyone his knife even though he _knew_ it had something to do with the Galra, despite whatever Coran said about the improbability of the Galra being on earth.

The Blade of Marmora seemed to be the good guys, if Ulaz was anything to go by, but they were Galra all the same.

Too often he found himself thinking about _them_ and even the other Galra, the _bad_ ones, but he hadn't discussed it with anyone.

He couldn't deny the feeling that he _was_ connected to the Galra in _some_ way. And if anyone should've heard about it, it was his team.

But he hadn't told them.

Keith felt something tense within him as he dared to think about it.

Zarkon had been tracking them through him, and... His hands tightened into fists...he _knew_ it all along.

And he _should_ have told them earlier. He should have _warned_ them before it was too late.

Instead, he put them in danger...because he was such a coward, too worried about what they would all think… or would have thought. What Allura and Coran would have thought if he told them? Or Shiro? Or any of them?

The Galra had brought destruction to so many worlds and peoples. They had enslaved Shiro, taken Pidge's family, destroyed Altea… They brought death and misery wherever they trampled and placed their name.

And to be connected to _that!_

He didn't want to face Shiro, or any of them, with that possibility. He was too _scared_. Weak, maybe, but it hurt too much to think about.

That he might share the guilt and shame of what had happened to them and their families.

That _he_ had hurt them.

Maybe that was why he raced head first into danger, because it felt easier to kill off those nagging feelings that he suddenly might not belong and be left behind, _again_.

And if he was putting their lives at risk, maybe he could do something right to make up for being whatever he was. Keep the Galra off their tail long enough for the Castle to escape.

That's what he'd tried to do, right?

 _So they could escape the death, enslavement, misery._

Instead, he had brought it upon them. He had _failed._

It was _his_ fault Red was lying there, exposed, nonfunctional, awaiting recapture. It was _his_ fault the others were probably hurt or dead or captured. And he would never get to tell them how sorry he was.

Because... _he_ knew it, and _he_ didn't tell them in time.

"I'm so sorry, Shiro." The apology was barely above a whisper. It vanished into the misty air, devoured by the wind, and meant nothing because no one was there to hear it, flickering out like a flame.

Keith curled in on himself as much as he could without causing himself unbearable pain, and lowered his head to stare at his lap and the edges of the torn, bloodied fabric hanging from his side.

Somewhere above him another Galra fighter joined up with the other, honing in on his position, but he wasn't paying attention anymore.

His head was spinning.

They were supposed to be a team.

Voltron was supposed to be the defender of the universe, perfectly formed, five becoming one, all working together, the head taking lead.

But he had let them down.

Shiro was wrong about him; he had to be. Shiro was right about many things, but this wasn't one of them.

A leader looked out for his team. And Keith… would never be like Shiro.

 _Shiro_ wasn't selfish like him. _Shiro_ would never run away from his fears like a coward. _Shiro_ didn't hide or keep secrets from his teammates. _Shiro_ was a leader.

Keith had failed his team. He had failed Shiro. He had failed Red.

He could never be a leader.

The Galra fighters were circling above him, their sickly-colored forms silhouetted against the sky reminding him of vultures. It was strange that they hadn't landed, but Keith couldn't find it in himself to care anymore.

It was pitiable and pathetic, and he _didn't care_.

It wasn't like he could do anything anyway. He would die of frost-bite or hypothermia before he found the strength to _do anything_.

And if he was going to be captured or killed, he probably deserved it.

It was his own fault.

He only hoped that Red wouldn't suffer for his mistakes.

Hopefully, she'd find a new paladin, one who wasn't as screwy as he was. And he hoped she could forgive him for letting it happen this way.

For being a failure.

The sky was growing darker, and the wind seemed to grow colder every second.

Keith cringed as the breeze swept against him again. He numbly raised a hand in an attempt to shield his face, gasping as the chill found its way down to his unprotected side and bit into the wound like a knife.

 _They aren't coming back._ Deep down, he knew, and he knew that he was probably the cause.

The fighters still didn't land. They hovered over him and the Red Lion, most likely reporting their position to their superiors, who, considering the circumstances, probably weren't too far away.

Zarkon and his fleet would be there soon, a pack of predators moving in for the prey.

Keith squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the image from his mind.

He was ashamed of himself for being so scared. So _weak._ But he was trembling, and he couldn't stop.

His throat burned with a suppressed sob at the shame of it all, that he was unable to keep a straight expression and accept his fate, the consequence of his actions.

He slumped limply as he reopened his eyes, watching as his breath steamed away into the cold atmosphere like little puffs of smoke.

A pathetic distraction, but he found it strangely comforting to have something other than the metallic monsters gliding above to look at.

Nearly five more minutes passed, and they still hadn't moved, his team hadn't come, and the guilt hadn't left.

Time was frozen, except for the sun this planet orbited, smothered behind a coverage of cloud, steadily descending.

Keith let his head slip against his shoulder, watching dully as the dark, misty world seemed to tilt and twist to one side, messing with his sense of balance as the weight of everything finally sank its way into his bones, latching on and dragging him further down… Like the light of day. Fading.

He wasn't going to make it.

His eyes could hardly focus anymore, and his eyelids were aching, threatening to seal shut any second now, ready to launch him into a darker world than even this.

He could no longer feel the pain in his side. Perhaps he was just going numb from the cold, but he couldn't help but be slightly relieved. It was probably better to go out without feeling.

Numbness seemed to fit the situation.

Everything blurred before him, gently pulsing black around the edges of his vision.

He was going to die there, alone, in the cold, in the dark, on a dead planet of black dirt and rocks, amid a graveyard of mangled Galra metal.

No one would ever know.

Keith, the Red Paladin, would be forgotten… or remembered as the idiot who led Zarkon straight to Voltron.

It didn't seem to matter anymore.

He hardly noticed when his eyes closed completely.

 **...**

 **A/N: Hopefully updates will come sooner than later.**


	2. Chapter 2

Keith unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth and forced himself to take in a breath of stale air.

A groggy sense of feeling was already seeping back into his limbs, which had probably been resting in the same uncomfortable position for awhile now if the stiffness meant anything.

Resisting the urge to groan, Keith peeled his eyelids open and peered out from beneath the canopy of bangs plastered to his forehead.

Well, this was... different.

Something red and glowing was directly in front of his face, taking up the span of vision.

Keith blinked a few times to fend back his eyes' sensitivity before slowly placing his hand against the ground.

Pushing himself up was surprisingly easier than he had thought, most of the pain from before having faded to a slight ache.

The sight before his eyes was no less as strange.

His surroundings were shrouded in darkness, the only visible light being stationed directly before him in the form of a small glowing rectangular platform. There was another just ahead of it, and another ahead of that, the pattern continuing on until Keith could determine a whole line of little platforms trailing forward as far as he could see into the cryptic blackness.

Keith bit back a groan as he pushed himself up on his knees, his hands spread out on the floor ahead to stabilize his wobbly pose.

He narrowed his eyes, straining to obtain a more focused image. But it was just so… dark.

He could hardly see anything of the room, save the hand-sized gaps of flooring illuminated between and around the little platforms.

The floor was super shiny, reflecting the red tinge as clearly as if it were liquid.

The Castle's lighting was tealish, and from what he had seen of Galra ships, they favored purple. He'd never seen this deep blood red except…

In the Red Lion.

But this wasn't the Red Lion.

It was too big, too _dark._ There was no lull of her systems nor purr of her presence in his mind. _She_ wasn't here.

Keith stared into the radiance lazily inking against the floor before dropping his gaze down to inspect his midsection.

There was a strange pressure there, and though he couldn't quite see well enough to tell if something had changed, he was pretty sure the wound had healed.

It wasn't inflaming his side anymore at the least.

Had he been rescued?

Keith glanced around again, shoulders tensing.

He didn't remember being rescued. And this… this certainly wasn't the Castle.

And though place didn't _look_ like the inside of a Galra ship, capture wasn't out of the picture. In fact, capture had seemed _imminent_ if he was remembering correctly _._

Galra fighters had been literally _circling above his head._ And he had been _injured and freezing and alone with his stupid thoughts and pathetic blubbering and he was going to die there without his team or Red because they were all going to…_

Keith's hands shot up to clutch either sides of his head, his fingers combing frantically through his hair.

Panicking wasn't good. Panic wasn't going to help him in this situation. He needed to focus. Patience yielded focus. He needed _patience._

Keith hastily brought his breathing back under control, feeling as his heartbeat followed suit, its erratic beating steading into a calmer pulse. Moments later and he was slowly rising from his place on the floor, cringing as he straightened his aching legs.

The wound apparently wasn't the only thing missing.

His paladin armor was gone too, leaving only his black undersuit. He hadn't noticed that before.

That meant he was without his bayard.

Keith instinctively felt around for his knife.

No knife.

No bayard.

He was unarmed.

Keith stiffened once again, trying to force down the sudden lump caught in his throat.

He always had a weapon on hand. He was _always_ armed. You could never know what was going to happen. No one could predict what you were going to come up against. You had to be ready.

And _you can't panic,_ he reminded himself.

This was unknown territory and he needed to be fully aware; he still had his eyes and ears and fists, and, shuttering his eyes, Keith sucked in a breath.

 _Patience yields focus._ _Patience yields focus. Patience yields focus._

Keith raised his head again, and took several steps forward along the line of platforms. His eyes had adjusted to the dim lighting. He could now make out a wall to his right barely six feet from the platforms. Whatever material they were made from was even darker than the floor and not nearly as reflective. He could only guess that another ran parallel on the opposite side of the room.

A few more strides and Keith was directly in front of the right wall, reaching one hand out to press and slide against its surface as he turned back and continued on.

The surface was sleek and cold to the touch, and Keith could feel subtle vibrations against his palm as he walked.

That was good.

If anyone or anything approached him in the dark, at least he would have some sort of warning beforehand.

And who knew? Perhaps he'd run into a door or something that led… somewhere else, hopefully.

He didn't like it here.

Keith kept his other hand clenched into a fist by his side.

There was something off about the place; the least he could do was be ready for what was lurking about, whatever it was.

The glowing path beside him gleamed, almost bleeding against the floor.

* * *

Landing unnoticed had proven surprisingly easy to accomplish, something that, although great for the mission itself, did nothing to ease Shiro's fears as he raced across the gravelly terrain, a fierce determination flashing in his eyes.

They had managed to land the Yellow Lion in a secluded area a mile or so away from the crash sight, the safest distance possible if they wanted to avoid detection. But Shiro couldn't help but be wary, especially considering the readouts the Castle's scanners had provided.

The Galra weren't wasting any time. And a _mile or so_ was just too far.

It was a miracle the Castle had been able to evade capture with as little damage as it did. The fact that the teledav was still functional was more than any of them could have hoped for.

But they couldn't count on their good fortune forever, and if the last few vargas had meant anything, their luck was stretching dangerously thin. They couldn't afford another head-on confrontation.

If they had any hope of rescuing Keith, this last-minute, makeshift mission needed to go smoother than planned.

Shiro hardly took notice of the rocky black cliffs speckled with demolished fighters and Galra scrap as he ran. Not that it really mattered; he had already seen the battle take place, as it went from bad to absolute hell.

Things were going to be different this time around. They had one shot at this, and he wasn't going to waste it. The Galra were never going to touch any member of his team ever again if he could help it.

Shiro didn't wait for the Galra soldier to react before tackling him to the ground with a vengeful growl.

The soldier, the only actual flesh-and-blood Galra Shiro had seen so far, yelped in surprise from beneath him. Fear flashed in the galran's yellow eyes as he struggled to free himself, claws scrambling against Shiro's armor plating.

But Shiro had him pinned to the ground with his knees, lip curled in utter disgust and robotic hand below his throat. The galra wasn't going anywhere.

"Where is he?!" Shiro hissed behind clenched teeth.

The galra met his gaze with a crazed snarl and launched a fist toward Shiro's nose.

Shiro easily dodged the blow, anger surging within.

 _Too many._

Too many lives ruined and destroyed reflected back at him from those yellow eyes.

Shiro leaned more of his body weight into his knees, pressing the galran into the dark soil. His hand powered up.

The soldier glared up at him in defiance, showing his fangs in a bitter scowl.

"Shiro!"

Shiro barely managed to jerk out of the way of several lasers fired most likely by the drones rapidly encroaching on the disturbance in their midst.

Five of them, he counted as he glanced up, were stationed in close proximity to the Red Lion.

Too close for comfort.

Shiro brought his human fist down on the galra soldier's face and leapt for cover.

Hunk's bayard sounded from across the way, a steady stream of fire that cut into the line of drones as easily as a knife through butter.

Another cluster of drones pushed forward somewhere off to the left, charging in in attempt to flank the large attacker.

Shiro broke cover and launched himself toward the nearest one, hand impaling the metal chest and latching on as he swung around in time to knock another two back with the body.

Hunk made easy work of the rest, allowing for Shiro to turn his attention to where it was needed.

The Red Lion.

The particle barrier was down, as were probably most of the ship's systems, if the lack of lighting in the Lion's eyes was any hint.

There was also an assortment of dents and scrapes marring her frame, but, thankfully, he didn't spot any major breaches to her hull.

The crash must have been hard though, if the rubble and trail of debris was anything to go by.

Shiro sucked in a deep breath, his robotic hand clenching by his side as his thoughts became grim. _Please be okay, Keith,_ he silently begged.

He couldn't lose anyone else.

Turning back to face the incoming enemies, his jaw tightened, anger surging up within his mind along with mixed-matched memories of his time as _their_ captive and the hell he had to live through.

He wasn't going to let them take anyone else. The universe couldn't afford that. _He_ couldn't afford that.

Shiro rushed forward, his hand activating with a sinister hiss and purple glow. He plowed his way through the drones, his mind set on keeping them away from the Lion and the member of his team within it, because… he refused to lose anyone else to _them._

Somewhere behind him, the sound of Hunk's bayard echoed throughout the mountainous landscape, giving a truly battlefield feel to the misty air as the two continued to down the troopers.

It was barely a minute before the ground around the Red Lion was further littered with robotic limbs and bodies.

Shiro finished off the last of the drones with a swipe of his hand, his expression grim.

Hunk made his way over, his smoking cannon morphing back into its smaller bayard form as he approached.

"So, I guess that's the last of them, right?" The Yellow Paladin glanced nervously at the surrounding cliffs and pointed formations as he spoke, nearly jumping when a stray pebble fell from the slope of a gravely pile disturbed in the chaos.

Shiro felt a surge of guilt swell within him.

It was no wonder Hunk was skittish. They had just barely escaped an attack on the _Castle,_ and here they were now, with only one active Lion and without backup.

The heavy fog and rugged landscape had provided the perfect position for their ambush. And at the moment they were standing in a ravine, flanked by two ominous mounts of black rock. Anyone could be watching or waiting for the right moment to attack.

They had to hurry up.

Shiro frowned, shaking his head while his gaze swept over the destroyed drones and fighters. It came to rest on the small purple cruiser at the far side of the gorge, still prepped for operation.

It had been too easy.

"I'm pretty sure the Galra would have more than just one unit of troops sent to retrieve a Lion," he said. "We have to hurry; reinforcements are probably on their way right now."

Hunk let out a whine of distress and glanced upward as if he expected to see the looming fleet of ships right then and there.

"I'm sorry, man, but this really sucks!"

Shiro nodded solemnly and gestured towards the Red Lion. "The sooner we get Keith the better."

He just hoped they weren't too late.

Despite being one of the smaller Lions, Red's massive paws towered high above their heads.

Shiro craned his neck to peer over the upturned mounds of earth, his eyes widening as Red Lion's unresponsive frame came into view. He felt Hunk shift besides him, equally as put off by the sight.

Embedded in all that dirt and rock, the Red Lion looked so… lifeless.

"I hope Keith's okay," Hunk murmured.

Shiro felt his mouth press into a thin line. "Me too," he whispered.

* * *

 **A/N:** It took me waaaaayyyy too long to get this chapter out. For that I apologize. *bows head*

Shout out to my friends for reading this over for me. (And for convincing me to finally post it) Thank you!

And thank you for all the reviews/favs/follows, dear readers! Let me know what ya'll think of this chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: A huge thank you to my best friends, Rookblonkorules and Meritt for being so encouraging, and for reading nearly every draft I've had of this chapter!**

The wind was blowing harder through the gorge, and it pushed against them and the Red Lion like an ominous presence attempting to dispel the intruders from its midst. The two Paladins bowed and shifted to regain their balance as they clung to the robotic beast.

The Red Lion itself lay motionless.

If the great beast was, however unlikely, aware somehow, it didn't reveal any sign of its consciousness or attention, even as the two Paladins clambered up and over its metal paws.

Shiro wasn't sure what he had been expecting of the Lion—a growl of acknowledgement, perhaps, or a faint pulse in the back of his mind, if not to actually straighten up to assist them if the action was possible. And yet, the Red Lion remained deathly still, void of any impression of living, its inertia enticing a shiver down his spine.

Shiro tried to dismiss the doubtful feelings as he pulled himself up towards its metal snout and mentally reprimanded himself.

He was being stupid. The Red Lion was damaged, their communications were down; Keith was _probably_ unconscious. It wasn't like they hadn't had something like this happen before. The Lions had been damaged not too long ago. Some of them even to the point of not responding via the bond they shared with their Paladins. This was not so different, and a lack of response from the Red Lion was to expected.

And yet, the ill feeling blooming within his chest was hard to ignore.

"Think Red'll let us in?"

Shiro glanced briefly over to Hunk who shrugged anxiously and turned away, eyebrows drawn together under his helmet's visor. "I mean, she's not the nicest lion out there, you know? She might get a little edgy if Keith's hurt or something. I _hope_ she'll let us in."

The frown etched into Shiro's face deepened as he turned back to the darkened eyes of the Lion. It was true the Red Lion had proven to be extremely protective of Keith in the past, almost possessive at times. But they couldn't afford to let the Red Paladin fall into the enemy's hands, and it was easy to see that his Lion understood this.

If there was a chance of keeping Keith safe, the Red Lion would be ready to take it, even if it meant separation for a time. Shiro didn't foresee any problem getting the Lion to cooperate, _if_ indeed the ship was still responsive, a question which looped back around to his previous worry.

They had yet to find out if the Red Lion was even _capable_ of letting them in.

"Let's hope for the best," he finally said, reaching forward to knock on the lower part of the Lion's large white-plated chin.

The echo of his cybernetic arm against the metal rang through the mist around them, but it soon became clear that no other response was coming, from Lion nor Paladin within.

Shiro felt his heart sink, and Hunk fidgeted by his side as he let his arm slip down.

"How're we gonna get in?" The Yellow Paladin repeated the question under his breath, shoulders sagging wearily.

Shiro drew his eyebrows together in forced concentration, resisting the urge to clench his jaw—yet another bad habit was the last thing he needed. The Black Paladin turned to let the breeze slip over the armor of his shoulders. "We'll get in," he said, ignoring the hollowing high pitched whistle of the wind.

The words felt stale on his tongue, hallow in their meaning, but he muttered them anyway. He needed something to focus on. "Keith needs us to get in. We'll do it, even if we have to—" He left the sentence hanging.

The thought of using his hand, his _galra weapon_ to pry apart a part of Voltron—it was horrible. Almost sacrilegious in a sense. Why— _how_ —would the idea even cross his thoughts? He was the Black Paladin! He shouldn't even—

"We need to get to Keith right now. Rescuing him and getting back to Yellow before the galra reinforcements arrive is our priority."

Whether the words were some sort of self assurance or a subconscious act of his leadership, he didn't know. But no sooner had they left his lips than Shiro had forced his mind clear of his doubts. He could dwell on his misgivings and mistakes as a leader later.

Hunk hummed in a half hearted agreement, but didn't offer any other response. His bayard was clutched tightly in his hands; the reminder of their pursing enemy hadn't eased his mind at all.

Shiro sighed softly as his hand made contact with the Lion once more. He used his _left_ one this time, the one that was still his own flesh and bone beneath the thick substance of his glove. He wouldn't harm the Lion if he didn't have to.

Shuttering his eyes, he let out his breath, slowly, carefully, and opened his mind. _Please,_ he begged, willing his voice to sink within the Lion's dormant aura, feeling the sleek smooth surface beneath his palm. _He's not safe here. He needs us. Let us in._

His memory drifted back to a time he and Keith had been in a similar situation, their roles reversed. He'd been the one in danger, and Keith had come to his aid, piloting _Black_ to save him. How had he done it?

 _Please, Red. We need to get him back to the castle._

Not even a flutter of recognition came from the Lion, and Shiro couldn't stop himself from clenching his fist against the metal frame as his frustration boiled over.

The Galra were coming! They'd be on them in no time at all, and he wasn't going to leave Keith again this time. He couldn't live with himself knowing that he had failed a member of his team… _again._

No, not when they had a chance.

"Shiro?"

Shiro turned in order to see the Yellow Paladin and shook his head, hissing softly.

It was probably mad at him, or would have been, if it was awake. Perhaps that was the reason behind the silence he felt over the Lions' bonds.

He could hardly feel Black at the moment, and deep down he knew it wasn't just the distance coming between them. His emotions were running wild, and he was far from getting them back under control again.

He _had,_ after all, made the decision to leave the Red Lion and her Paladin after they had departed from the Castle.

There were just too many complications—too many risks—to go after Keith then, with the Castle severely damaged and their enemies closing in on them.

Hell, it was chaos! The Galra shouldn't have been able to find them in the first place!

And he couldn't do anything. It was all out of his control; and he, the _Black Paladin,_ was helpless to stop it.

Shiro let his head droop until it hit against the nose of the Lion. He felt so lost—so _sick_ of himself right now.

Tilting his head up, he turned his gaze to the sky above, silently searching for any sign of their foes and begging the final rays of daylight to last just a little longer.

It was then that he felt the tremor against his palm.

His eyes were immediately back on the Lion, searching the great creature for any difference in appearance.

 _Red?_

The explosion of emotions over his mind nearly blew him over, and he strained against the sudden onslaught battering his mental-shields.

 _Anxiety, fear, apprehension, desperation_  
The muscles in his arm went taught as he struggled to force his hand away from the beast, all the while resisting the urge to break under sheer terror at the overwhelming force and scream.

It was all too familiar— that pain—that _feeling_.

 _Eyes, all glowing, and jagged grins, claws, metal, blood_ —

 _He had to get out! He had to get away from them!_

He could just barely make out Hunk's voice calling his name desperately. But it was so far away. Too far away.

 _Too far away!_

And everything was spinning, too fast, too _fast! He couldn't ground himself!_ There was nothing to hold onto.

The Lion was roaring in his mind, a dreadful cry full of pain and anger and—and _anguish._

He only just managed to avoid smacking into Hunk when his hand was finally released. He sagged forward, almost collapsing into the Yellow Paladin's arms as the last echo of Red's roar faded from his mind.

"Shiro! Shiro! Oh man! What happened! Are you okay! Please tell me you're okay!" Hunk's voice was all too loud, and turning his head he found out why. The Yellow Paladin was practically yelling in his ear.

Accepting Hunk's steadying hand, Shiro forced himself to his feet and after catching his breath, gripped his fellow paladin's shoulder loosely.

"I'm okay, I'm okay." He wasn't sure if he was trying to convince Hunk or himself. His head was _still_ spinning, and his stomach wasn't faring much better. He felt it churning as he uttered his next words.

"But I think—I think Keith is in trouble."

* * *

The darkness swam around his head as walked.

The soft tapping of his feet besides the red path had been his only companion for the past—however long he'd been walking—but at the very least he could take comfort in the fact that he wasn't completely without his senses. Though, even they paled in comparison to the intimidating wall of darkness that seemed to always be before him, leading him on to nowhere.

By now, even the shots of an enemy's blaster would have come as a relief.

The silence was oppressive, and the stillness was on the verge of driving him mad.

Keith frowned as he continued on, eyebrows draw together in concentration.

He was lucky if he wasn't walking in a perpetual loop, as that was exactly what it felt like—some sick twisted circular prison.

The Galra were probably laughing at him right now.

And there was something else too, something that gnawed at the back of his mind, the whisper of something sinister in the place of his Lion. It had stayed with him, despite how many times he tried to force it from his mind.

Perhaps he _was_ really going crazy.

The Red Paladin shivered, sighing quietly to himself. Then he froze.

There was sound coming from farther ahead, faint and far off, but unmistakable in contrast to the silence.

Keith strained his ears to listen, subconsciously settling into a defensive stance.

"Hello?"

He cringed at the sharpness of his own voice slicing into the thickness of the air. It echoed back at him, the sound almost mocking.

 _Hello._

 _Hello._

 _Hello._

Silence filled the void between him and the rest of the cell, and Keith stood still until the lack of noise was practically throbbing in his ears.

The darkness continued to hover around him, heavy, quiet, almost an actual presence before his eyes, only the dull red of the pathway marring it's purity.

Just it and him.

Alone.

Keith quickened his pace to a jog, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling creeping down his spine.

The glowing rectangles flew past. The wall just continued.

On and on.

The collar of his jacket stuck against the nape of his neck as he ran, glued down by the precipitation gathering on his skin.

Something was wrong.

There was something moving around him and making noise. He could feel it, brushing against his thought.

And then, there it was again, the sound faintly echoing from a distance.

Almost like… breathing or panting, or perhaps, muffled voices?

"Is anyone there?" Keith called out into the darkness again, desperately hoping for a response.

He _needed_ to know what was in there.

 _Patience yields focus. Patience yields focus. Patience yields focus._

"Shiro?"

No answer.

He didn't what had possessed him to call out for Shiro, of all people. Shiro wasn't here. Shiro was back in the Castle of Lions, with the others, he was _safe_. And it was foolish to use his name here, when he didn't know what was listening or watching him.

"Who's there!" Keith yelled quickly to make up for the slip-up. He needed to be more careful.

The sound started up again, louder this time, and breathy, as if distressed or exhausted.

Keith came to a halt, spinning around to scour the room, hall, cell, _whatever_ it was, and prepared himself.

But nothing happened, nothing emerged from the blackness, and the sounds slowly ebbed away until they ceased altogether.

The teen took a step back, lowering his hands, frowning and trying to remember.

The panting had seemed almost human in nature. Perhaps—

 _Had_ he been rescued after all? Was this just some sort of side effect of the cryo-pods? A nightmarish dream as his body healed?

His wound _was_ gone after all—but no, he couldn't have been rescued.

There was no way he could have been rescued.

Keith shook his head in attempt to regain control of his thoughts.

The Galra were sure having one heck of a time with him.

He closed his eyes once more, frustration burning behind them.

"What do you want with me?" he hissed to whatever twisted individual was surely watching him. He was sick of these games.

"Why have I been brought here?"

Still no answer.

"What do you want?"

No answer.

"Who are you!"

"Keith."

Keith stilled, eyes widening in surprise as he spun on his heel towards the voice—a voice he knew too well to mistake.

"Shiro?!" he finally gasped, a relieved smile spreading across his features. "Shiro! Where are you? Where are we? What are you doing here?"

"Keith?"

The word sounded so far away.

"I'm here, Shiro!" he shouted, vaguely aware that he had started running toward voice.

He could hear the sound of his shoes against the floor, but there was no feeling. It was strange, but he couldn't find it in himself to care too much about it. At least, not at the moment.

Shiro was here and had to be found, nothing else mattered.

"Keith."

 _Faster._

The cell still seemed as endless as it had before, but now Keith felt the edge of irritation prickling in his head.

The sound of Shiro's voice echoed off the walls, making it hard to pinpoint where it was coming from and how close he was to him. But there was nowhere else to turn, and he continued running, whipping his bangs back out of his eyes and licking his dry lips to call out again.

"Where are you, Shiro?!"

 _Faster._

"Keith."

 _Keith._

 _Keith._

 _Keith._

"... _Secure the Lion…..unconscious…...Already notified_ …."

He didn't recognize the other voice.

"... _temperature…...negative….no, we'll need to….particle barrier._ "

"Who's there!"

Keith halted in his tracks, trying to listen as thoughts raced through his head.

The jumbled portions of sentences made no sense.

"Shiro?"

 _Where was Shiro? Who was the other voice? What the hell was going on?_

There it was again, that damned sense of not knowing, of being helpless and _lost._

"Keith."

He spun around, his eyes meeting pitch-black.

He couldn't see.

Panic swarmed over his mind.

The lights were gone, the blood-red luminescence traded for pure darkness.

The dark void ahead seemed to thicken the very air, forbidding in appearance.

Slowly, Keith turned to face it completely, feeling a prickling sensation crawl over his arms and legs as he stared into the very depths of it.

There was something terribly wrong in there; it was screaming in the back of his mind now.

 _Turn back!_

 _Go back!_

 _Not safe!_

But Shiro was in there.

The Red Paladin took a step forward, hands clenching and unclenching, missing the feel of a weapon.

" _...gone….Quick!...coming!_ "

He ignored the other voice. All that mattered was finding Shiro.

"Shiro?"

The darkness swallowed him eagerly, and Keith was forced to steady himself, reaching out to find the wall again.

"Shiro, you in here?" he tried again.

No answer, and his heart sank.

He was going crazy. The Galra were messing with his mind. He had to concentrate. He had to focus. He had to—

But then he saw it.

The glint of a metallic surface that seemed to almost rip through the darkness like a blade through cloth.

He rushed towards it without a second thought, his anticipation regained. He was only feet away when he stopped short, the darkness retreating from him and—

"S-Shiro?"

No answer.

His expression wavered as he stood there, staring, shell-shocked, before finally collapsing to his knees besides the figure. Slowly, he reached out a shaking hand to touch the shoulder.

There was no response, just a coldness, a stillness that Keith had never thought he would experience.

 _No._

His heart raced as he struggled to turn the body over, his hands pushing under the back of Shiro's head to support it in his lap.

He instantly regretted it, gaping in horror as the bloodied face of his leader lolled lifelessly to the side, staring beyond Keith and their surroundings with hazy, unclosed eyes.

 **A/N: Cliffhanger!**

 **So sorry this chapter is late! I couldn't get it how I wanted it, and I'm still not really happy with it, but I hope you all enjoy! Thank you all those who read, followed, and favorited! And a big thank you to my reviewers! If I get more of those, this story might move along faster. *hint, hint***


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